


tooth and nail

by errorryx



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood, Gen, Gore, Graphic Description, Heavy Angst, Torture, Violence, i spare no details whatsoever, it's really fucking graphic, quackity fucking extracts dream's teeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 12:00:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30105639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/errorryx/pseuds/errorryx
Summary: Dream has a book. Sam is willing to let some things slide. And Quackity gets his revenge where he can take it.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Clay | Dream, Alexis | Quackity & Sam | Awesamdude
Comments: 8
Kudos: 136





	tooth and nail

**Author's Note:**

> a reimagining of the events in quackity's latest stream. PLEASE READ THE TAGS. this is so fucking graphic. do not read this if you think you'll be seriously affected by it. take care of yourselves.
> 
> i usually don't bother with the little disclaimers at the beginning of fics, but i'm bothering with this one because it's very intense and i honestly feel a bit weird about posting it on the internet for all to see. if any of the content creators involved express displeasure with stories of this caliber, it'll be gone.

Sam acted as if he were innocent, as if he were above it all. He didn’t want Dream dead, he told Quackity again and again. He thought the whole thing was a terrible idea. It was morally wrong. It was against the prison’s rules. 

But for all that blustering, when Sam handed him the shears right before sending him into the main cell, Quackity knew. Sam was no angel. Sam knew exactly what he was doing.

The thought filled him with some kind of chill, something that sunk down his spine like a horde of crawling insects and sent his whole body into excited shivers. He rolled his shoulders up and back in an effort to relax himself. The idea of Sam knowing exactly what he was thinking, enabling him fully like this…

“Sam,” Quackity said, turning back from the lava one last time and ignoring his body’s spasms of exhilaration, “don’t worry. It’ll be our dirty little secret. It won’t leave these prison walls.”

Sam closed his eyes. “Quackity, please face forward.”

“Of course.”

At long last the lava descended, revealing Dream in his cell, staring glassy-eyed at nothing in particular. He scrambled to his feet. “Quackity?” his voice echoed across the chasm, the rasping sound barely making it over to Quackity’s ears. “Why are you here?”

Quackity didn’t answer him, concealing the tools Sam had given him in his inventory. “Move with the bridge or you’ll fall in the lava,” Sam instructed him quietly, and Quackity nodded, fixing an indifferent expression onto his face as he made the trip over.

He leaned against the finely forged netherite gate, staring at Dream. He hadn’t seen him in a while. Even with the mask gone, even dirty, disheveled, half starved, Dream wasn’t any less of a monster. His hair had grown long, and it surrounded his head in greasy clumps, streaked in blood and sticky obsidian tears. His prison uniform hung miserably off of his frame, the baggy clothes emphasizing the gauntness of his body. The emphasis of his jawline and collarbone, the way his yellowing skin seemed wrapped over them, all spoke to how he’d suffered long before Quackity had ever come. God, he looked so weak. This would be much easier than Quackity had previously thought.

“Why are you here?” Dream asked again, this time with much more apprehension. Quackity allowed himself a small grin. He didn’t turn back until the lava had fallen and the netherite gate descended, allowing him into Dream’s cell. He was happy to grant Sam the option of feigning ignorance like he so clearly wanted.

“I thought I’d pay you a visit,” Quackity said, stepping closer and closer until he could see the whites of Dream’s eyes. Well, the yellows of his eyes. They were as jaundiced as his skin; he was wasting away. Quackity opened the chest nearby and found it full of raw potatoes. He took one out and made sure Dream was watching as he bit into it like he would an apple.

“Those are mine,” Dream said, squaring his shoulders and extending himself to his full height. Quackity couldn’t lie- even when Dream was horribly diseased, even when his wrists and ankles were so thin that Quackity could easily take them into his hands and snap them, he was still intimidating. Maybe it was the empty, apathetic look in his eyes. Quackity wasn’t allowed to kill him by rules of the prison; what else did Dream have to care about?

Quackity would make him reevaluate that position very soon.

“I was hungry,” Quackity lied. “Sam’s got me down to half a heart in here, you know.”

“I know,” Dream said. “I’ve had visitors before. What do you want from me?”

There was no point in hiding it. Cards on the table. “I want the book.”

“I’ve got a book on the lectern there,” Dream said, pointing. Quackity didn’t even glance at it. It wasn’t the one he wanted, so it didn’t matter.

“You know what book I’m talking about,” he said. “I want it, and I expect to have it.”

“Oh, _that_ book.” Dream settled down against the rough obsidian wall, sitting down criss-cross applesauce and resting his head in his hands like a child. “I don’t have it.”

“Then point me in the right direction, and we’re done here.”

“I burned it,” Dream said in a sing-songy voice. Did he think he was in control here? That was cute. Quackity would let him keep his delusion for a while longer. It would be that much more fun to take it away later. “I destroyed it ages ago. The information’s in my brain, and nowhere else.”

“Easy. Then tell it to me.”

“Sure, after you get me out of here.”

Quackity expected that. “No, you’re not getting out of here,” he said. “It’s very simple, Dream. You tell me how to bring someone back to life, and I’ll leave you alone. That’s what’s going to happen.”

“Mmm,” Dream said. “I think I can handle you being here a little longer. I can always take you out with one punch and send you back to Sam.”

“Then do it,” Quackity said. “Do it, right now.”

“Sam doesn’t like when I do it,” Dream said, his voice briefly going timid. His bravado returned with the next sentence. “You don’t want me to do that. It’ll hurt.”

“I think I can take it.” Quackity spread his arms wide. “Hit me with your best shot.”

Frowning, Dream got to his feet and pulled his arm back for a punch. Despite how thin and bony his arms were, he still managed a decent amount of strength behind the impact, and Quackity had to hold in a gasp. The missing heart quickly regenerated thanks to the high saturation of the steak, and he didn’t feel it for long.

Dream’s eyes narrowed. “You- you- was that from the potato?”

“Maybe,” Quackity said, grinning. 

Dream hit him again and again, six times in total, each time growing more and more frustrated. “The potatoes don’t restore that much health!” he finally cried in frustration. “You snuck something in here, you must have! What did you do?”

“Oh, it looks like I’m finally hungry again,” Quackity mused, making direct eye contact with Dream. Very slowly, he pulled a single piece of steak from his inventory and ate it in front of him, watching as Dream’s eyes watered with tears of longing.

“How? How did you do it?”

“You’re asking the wrong question,” Quackity said, wagging a finger at him. “The question you should be asking is, if I got steak in here, what else did I bring with me?”

Dream’s dull green and yellow eyes widened in fear as he realized. “No, no, you can’t have things in here, those are the rules. Sam will stop you.”

“No,” Quackity said, pulling out the netherite sword, “I don’t think he will.”

Dream’s scream was the most pleasant thing to grace his ears in months.

“Sam! Sam, please!” he shouted, losing his balance in his fear and stumbling to the obsidian floor. Purple tears rained down on him, further sullying his already filthy hair and skin. “Sam, _help me_!”

Quackity knelt down beside him. His hand clenched tightly to the hilt, but he let Dream see the blade in full view. “Look closely,” he instructed, and Dream listened, his eyes cast on the runic lettering carved across the blade. “What does it say?”

Dream read the enchanted script, and his face fell. It was marvelous, seeing him so helpless. _“Warden’s Will,”_ he whispered. “No-”

“Yes,” Quackity said, holding the tip of the blade to Dream’s chin, pressing it upwards with just enough pressure to be uncomfortable. He ran his hand along Dream’s jaw, humming slightly to himself. “Poor little hope, trapped in Pandora’s box, huh? There’ll be no hope for you today.”

“Don’t-” Dream’s whole body shuddered, a beautiful convulsion. “Don’t touch me.” He dragged himself away across the floor with his hands, his already destroyed fingernails splintering further. “Please, Quackity-”

“That’s right,” Quackity agreed. “Beg. Beg at my feet for mercy. You won’t find any, but it’ll be amusing all the same.”

 _“Please!”_ It echoed around the room, a desperate sob unwillingly escaping his mouth. “No, no, please, I’m sorry, _please-_ ”

“Is that how Tommy sounded when you killed him?” Quackity growled at him, stepping forward again and exchanging Sam’s sword for the axe. He grabbed one of Dream’s wrists and twisted it just slightly in his grasp. “I get why you did it, really. It’s a beautiful sound.” He pushed the wide blade of the axe closer to Dream’s head. “Doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

Dream didn’t say anything, just squeezed his eyes shut. A low wail escaped his mouth, but he quickly suppressed it. He was much less successful in suppressing the tears.

Quackity allowed himself a shiver of excitement and anticipation. He deserved this, after everything. He knelt down, placing his knees on either side of Dream’s chest just under his arms, and wiped a tear from his eye. Dream let out another sob at the sensation, his free arm searching for the abandoned axe handle, which Quackity allowed until he got close, at which point he swept up the axe again and returned it swiftly to his inventory.

“Dream,” he said, tracing the long line of scar tissue that extended through his eye and down across his upper lip, “you wanna know how I got these scars?” He couldn’t resist saying the line. It was right there. It would be so funny to watch Dream take it seriously.

“Shut… shut up,” Dream mumbled beneath him. “Please.” He’d gone limp so quickly; he hadn’t even struggled. A struggle might have been fun, but the fight leaving him so soon was even more fun, because there had to have been a reason for that. Quackity wondered what Dream might have suffered at the hands of Sam in the months he’d been in here. 

“Eyes open. Come on, now. Pay attention.” Quackity poked at his face, prying open one of his eyelids. “See this?” He offered Dream a grin, showing off the three missing teeth inside his mouth. Both left incisors, top and bottom, were gone, as well as the first top left molar. They had been casualties of the injury he’d suffered from Techno’s pickaxe. Techno had promised to put it through his teeth, and immediately followed through. It was a day Quackity would never forget. “It’s not very fair, is it, Dream? You have two eyes-” he took Dream’s eyes in his hands, gently squeezing just enough to alarm him but not enough to pry them from their sockets- “two ears-” he pulled on them, letting his fingernails dig into the pliable cartilage- “two arms, two legs.” He grabbed Dream’s wrists, marveling at how thin they were. Tommy’s wrists hadn’t even been this thin in exile. Of course, Quackity hadn’t seen him at his worst, so maybe they had been. “Most of all, you’ve got a full mouthful of teeth. A complete set.” He pried Dream’s lips apart and ran his fingers along the top and bottom rows of pearly white teeth. They weren’t so pearly or white. A few of them might have been rotting, actually. But they were all there.

A few more tears escaped Dream’s eyes. He bit down suddenly, one last display of ferocity, and Quackity quickly retracted his hands, wiping them on the cold obsidian floor. “Get off of me,” Dream spat, coughing badly at the effort, nearly sending himself into a choking fit. He pushed Quackity away with his free arms, but it did nothing. He was weak, so weak. So helpless.

“Are you going to make me tie those arms up?” Quackity asked. “You know there’s no point fighting back, Dream. I’ll get what I want either way. It’ll hurt less if you behave.”

“You fucking _psychopath._ ” His spirit suddenly renewed, Dream gave one last shove, barely moving Quackity off of him, and dragged himself to his feet, spitting on the obsidian floor to get rid of the feeling of fingers in his mouth. “You’re disgusting.” Quackity watched him stumble across the room towards the lava, resting his hand against the wall and breathing heavily in exhaustion. 

“Hypocritical, aren’t we? I’m no worse than you. I’d argue I’m better, actually, since I don’t hurt innocent people. Just tyrants.”

“Sam!” Dream yelled one last time for good measure, gazing out into the lava. There was no reply, of course. Quackity knew Dream could see the outline of Sam’s name tag across the lava-filled chasm. Dream had to know that Sam was watching through his cameras and not doing a thing to stop him. “Sam, please! Anyone!”

“Scream as loud as you want, Dream. No one’s coming to save you.” 

Quackity moved fast, getting Dream pinned down with relative ease. He dragged him back from the lava so there’d be no question of Dream pushing him into the fire to burn, back against the wall with the chest and lectern. He pulled a length of rope from his inventory and knotted Dream’s wrists together around the base of the lectern so his arms were stretched above his head, completely worthless. Dream’s legs still kicked with a reckless fury, so Quackity took Dream’s ankle into his hands, making sure Dream was watching him, and snapped it like a twig. A long scream followed the sound of bones snapping. Quackity did the same with the other ankle, and soon after his legs kicked no more.

“You fucking bastard,” Dream said as Quackity leaned over him again. He spat upwards into Quackity’s face, a huge bloody glob of spit he’d obviously been working up for a minute or two. “When I get out of here, you’re my first target. I’ll double everything you do to me, I’ll crush your fucking bones up in front of you while you lay on the ground bleeding, I’ll keep you alive for days, broken, limbless, bloody and screaming.” His lip curled cruelly around the last words. “I will cut you until there’s nothing left.”

Quackity nodded along. “Exciting. And then what?”

“I’ll dump your mangled corpse somewhere Karl and Sapnap will find it,” Dream said. “They’ll sob and cry and give you a burial, and I’ll dig you back up, bring you back to life, and do it all over again, and again, and again. Just you and me, forever.”

“Mhmm,” he said doubtfully. “How are you going to do all that with no hands?”

“No no no no no no _no no no no no no-_ ”

“Exactly. Shut up if you know what’s good for you. Don’t forget who’s in charge here.” 

Quackity got to work.

“Techno’s method of extracting teeth leaves a little to be desired,” he explained casually. “He used a pickaxe. Toothpick, he called it. It was very painful, but not very impressive. Blunt force never is. There are better methods of dentistry.”

“I’ll bite you again,” Dream hissed. “I’ll-” He was cut off by Quackity shoving a wad of fabric down his throat, big enough for him to choke on if he wasn’t careful. It left his mouth hanging open just slightly, and the more he struggled, the further it got lodged in the back of his mouth, pressing harder on his gag reflex. He was left with nothing to do but to stare at Quackity in hatred.

Quackity unveiled the shears, enjoying Dream’s muffled cries of fear that quickly turned into gagging. Fresh tears ran down his face. “You’re so keen on biting me, Dream. I think I’ll have to fix that.” The shears were massive, complete overkill for a tooth extraction, but that was the idea. The back end barely fit inside Dream’s mouth. Quackity positioned the shears over the upper left incisor, the first tooth he’d witnessed falling from his own mouth on the day he and Techno fought. The memory made him see red, as it often did. Quackity had no hope of getting his revenge on Techno, but this would have to do.

He crushed the tooth in between the blades.

The resulting scream filled him with adrenaline, the cloth gag doing nothing to keep Dream silent. Quackity watched as Dream’s mouth flooded with blood, his tongue writhing violently at the sensation of the chunks of his broken tooth floating amongst the blood and saliva. “Did you think I’d just pull it out?” Quackity teased. “Did you think I’d go that easy on you?”

Dream’s remaining teeth gnashed wildly, causing blood to drip past his lips and down his face, out of the corners of his mouth and towards the floor. His head lurched forward and back in apparent agony. Quackity forced his head down to the floor again and repositioned the shears, this time around the upper right incisor. He was fond of symmetry, a luxury Techno had taken from him, and he’d force that fondness onto Dream. He crushed the second tooth, producing even more blood. The motion sent blood splattering across his face and jacket, but he didn’t mind.

Dream screamed once more, the force of it sending the now bloody cloth flying from his throat and across the room. He spit desperately onto himself, blood and saliva and chunks of teeth dribbling from his mouth and down his neck and shoulders. He sputtered for a full two minutes, squinting and sobbing with the pain, until he finally recovered his voice enough to say, “Please just make this stop. Please, Quackity. I’ll do what you want, I don’t care, I don’t care, please.”

“Begging again?” Quackity let up, allowing Dream to pull himself into a slightly more upright position. “I like it. Continue, and we might be done for the day."

Dream leaned heavily on his restricted arms behind the stand of the lectern, visibly shoving down his pride. He spat out one last chip of his own tooth. “Please. No more. I’ll do- I’ll do anything. Anything you want.”

“Anything I want?” Quackity mused.

“Anything.”

“Like telling me how to resurrect people?” 

Dream was silent. 

“Guess you’d rather it continue, then.”

“No, no, _please-_ ”

“Only joking.” Quackity returned the bloody shears to his inventory. It would be Sam’s task to clean them off, not his. He doubted Sam would extend the same courtesy to Dream’s now-filthy cell. “I think we’re done for the day. There’s only so many teeth in your mouth, and I want to drag this out long enough for it to keep hurting every day that I come back. I don’t want to let you forget. Once you run out of teeth, though, I’ll have to move on to other things.” He grinned once again, moving in and tugging at Dream’s upper lip, taking one last assessment of the damage. He placed his finger casually in the gap where Dream’s incisor had been. The root of the tooth was still there, amusingly, its edges loose and jagged, barely dangling from the gum. Dream winced at the touch, pulling away.

Quackity leaned back and freed Dream’s hands before retreating past where the netherite gate had sunken into the ground. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he told Dream, who lay on the floor, bloody and broken just like he’d promised to make Quackity. Just like Quackity had always dreamed. “Sam!” Quackity called, dragging his bloody hands across the front of his pant legs, leaving long red streaks. “We’re all done here!”

The gate extended and the lava began falling. Dream cast him one last hateful glare, his mouth hard to identify from the blood covering his face. It was all a giant mass of red. Quackity smiled back, poking the tip of his tongue through the gap in his own teeth and laughing brightly. 

The lava fell, the bridge returned to him, and Quackity left Dream behind. He returned Sam’s tools, now streaked with blood, to his waiting arms. Sam took them without comment, remaining stonily silent. There was no betrayal of emotion behind his gas mask and hollow black eyes.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Quackity told him. 

Sam nodded. “I’ll be here. So will he.”

They didn’t speak another word. Quackity took his things from the locker and left, wandering into the night with his red-stained clothes and his three remaining steak, his head spinning with victory.

He crafted a bed, not wanting to make the long trip back to Las Nevadas, and having no house anymore, nothing anywhere near the heart of the SMP he could call home. He spent a lonely night in the woods near the prison, quickly constructing a dirt shelter to protect him from mobs.

He woke up the next morning to do it all again.


End file.
